Not Alone in the World
by Beth's Cute Guy
Summary: In which Simon is feeling his lack of family more than ever, and Baz isn't really helping. Also posted to AO3.


Simon rubbed his eyes groggily and checked the clock on his desk. Only 8:30... and he had been hoping to sleep until at least ten. But no, Baz had to go take a shower at eight in the morning on a Sunday. And it didn't sound like he'd made the least effort to be quiet about it, either. It was too late to go back to sleep now, and Simon grumbled about it as he buttoned his shirt and knotted his tie. The greater part of that day spent unconscious, the better.

Baz came back into the room and interrupted his brooding a few minutes later. Simon decided to wait for him to finish toweling off his hair before shouting at him.

"What could you possibly have to do today that made it imperative for you to shower at eight o'clock in the bloody morning?" Simon knew he was being at least somewhat irrational. It wasn't that big of a deal, really. But arguing with Baz was good. It was a distraction. And it was dependable. It was so easy to get a rise out of his roommate, and with the rhythm, the heated banter, it was almost fun.

"Well, some of us like to be clean." His voice was oozing superiority.

"Some of us like to sleep," Simon growled.

"But the festivities," Baz lamented mockingly, "how could they go on without precious Simon Snow? Without the Mage's Heir, the Chosen One?"

"The school may not need me to have Easter, but clearly the Pitch family doesn't need you, either." Hurt splashed across Baz's features for an instant, so quickly that you'd have to be really paying attention to see it, and Simon was, and then it was gone. Replaced with a sneer, and Simon knew the next thing out of that mouth would be below the belt, and what he had just said had been too, and Simon discovered he was no longer in the mood for this.

"At least I have a family," Baz said. And he stalked out.

Simon turned on his side and buried his face in his pillow, finally letting go of the tears he had been holding back since he woke up. Baz wasn't going to come back, and even if he did, if he saw Simon like this, what did it matter? Baz already thought Simon to be a bumbling idiot, and that people only liked him because he was the Mage's Heir. So if his roommate did find him like this, crying into a pillow, he wouldn't ask why. He wouldn't find out that it was Simon's birthday in addition to Easter, and that he was spending it alone.

So Simon was crying for a few reasons, really. He hated holidays. He hated that they tell you how to feel and how they're supposed to be a time for family, and that reminded him that he didn't have any. And it was doubly bad this year, with two falling on the same date. These were the days when he felt his orphaned state more than ever, and with a crushing loneliness that he wasn't sure he could ever escape. Sure, he had friends, Agatha and Penelope and anyone at school he wanted, really, but it wasn't the same. The one person who didn't like him was, even though Simon would hate to admit it, perhaps another reason for his tears.

A particularly heavy sob wracked through Simon's body as Baz walked through the door to their room.

"Forgot my-" Baz broke off as he saw Simon's sorry state. If Simon had not still had his head buried in his pillow, he would have seen the look of concern in his roommate's eyes that was wiped clean just as quick as the hurt had been minutes before.

Simon froze. For all his brash thoughts about not caring what Baz thought of him anymore, he was thoroughly embarrassed. He wanted to go back to feeling sorry for himself in peace, and was in no mood to be ridiculed. He considered telling Baz to get lost, but he didn't trust his voice, never mind his tearstained face. So he just stayed there, emitting go away vibes as hard as he could, but it wasn't working at all, because he could have sworn he felt Baz's presence near his bed, but that couldn't be, didn't make sense.

"Snow." When Baz spoke, it was from close to Simon. Simon wished he could sink into his bed. He thought there might be no possible way he could feel any worse, but whatever was about to come out of his roommate's mouth certainly couldn't make him feel any better.

"Snow," he said again. "Are you, er, alright?" There was suddenly a hand on Simon's back. That wasn't right. Only Baz was in the room with him, and the only time the other boy willingly touched him was when they were fighting; never this gently. Or this awkwardly. Simon was afraid even moving a muscle would scare him off, so he stayed lying down, and his response was muffled, mostly absorbed by the pillow. But that was good, because his voice was shaking so, so much.

"No." He sounded like a whiny child, but it was true. He wasn't alright. But maybe he could be. If every time he felt alone, there was that hand on his back.

"Do you want to talk about it, maybe? With an actual human being, I mean, not your pillow."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" It didn't come out half as icily as he wanted it to. "You're the one always saying the world doesn't revolve around Simon Snow." Crowley, Snow, what are you thinking? Do you want him to leave?

Baz muttered something incoherent under his breath. Simon sat up to hear him better, forgetting, momentarily, his blotchy, red face. Baz's hand fell to his side. He was standing close to the edge of Simon's bed, inches away from his knee.

"What?"

"I said, maybe mine does." Baz looked away, and his sallow cheeks flushed pink, and Simon sat there, waiting for the punchline, for the completion of yet another joke at his expense, but it never came.

Baz took a few steps back.

"Sorry. I mean, er, I'll just let you go back to... what you were doing. This is not my place to interfere with your personal business." He was rambling a little, speaking absent-mindedly. Simon loved seeing him lose control of his words like this when he usually wielded them so forcefully. "The last thing you need right now is your arch-nemesis confessing his love for you." It took both of them a moment to realize what he had just said. If Baz had been blushing before, his face beneath his dark hair was practically on fire then, and his eyes were wide.

"Shit." And he ran out of the room.

"Baz!" Simon started to run after him, a smile creeping across his lips. This was shaping up to be the best birthday of his life. (which was not saying much; he had had some pretty awful birthdays at the orphanage) "Wait!"

Fortunately, most of the students were home for the holidays, so there was no one to hear Simon wildly shouting Baz's name as he ran down the corridor after his roommate, and no one to see the tear tracks still present on his face. He caught up to Baz outside the library and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, can you talk? Like, do you actually have some place to be?" Simon spoke to his back. Baz gave a short, humorless laugh.

"Haven't you heard, Snow? My whole fucking world revolves around you," he said, turning around to face Simon. "I can make time." His words were bitter, but his features lacked the usual resentment. He looked... tired. Tired of fighting, Simon hoped.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"What, the part about letting you go back to wallowing in peace? Because yes, I certainly did, and while this corridor is momentarily vacant, I do recommend you go back to our room for that." Simon sighed. Baz was clearly trying to evade this, and he couldn't let that happen.

"You bloody well know what I mean, Baz." Simon took a deep breath. "The bit about, um, my arch-nemesis, and, er, confessions of love-"

"You must've heard wrong, you know how emotion clouds thought and all that." He was getting a little flustered. Simon wanted to laugh.

"No, I'm pretty sure I heard right. You were standing pretty close to me."

"Crowley, you're Simon Snow! You've got a dozen arch-nemeses." He was spluttering. Tyrannus Basilton Pitch, losing his cool twice in one day? He had to be really embarrassed. "I was speaking of the Insidious Humdrum. It's important to love yourself, right?"

"Baz, you can stop." Simon did laugh this time. Just a little. "It's alright."

"Snow, can't you just forget about this-"

"What if I don't want to forget about it?" Simon took a step forward. He wondered if he could wipe his eyes at all covertly, and then decided to forget about that and dragged the back of his hand across his cheeks, like a bear frantic in a swarm of bees.

Baz might actually have been speechless. His eyes were wide again, like he was finally allowing himself to hope.

"Go on," he breathed, so that only someone standing very close to him could hear. And Simon heard. Where had the space between them gone?

"If you meant it," Simon murmured. "My arch-nemesis confessing his love for me is exactly what I need." Tentatively, Simon put a hand on said arch-nemesis's shoulder. When he didn't flinch away or protest, he pulled Baz into a clumsy hug. At first, the other boy's arms hung awkwardly at his side, but then he wrapped them around Simon's shoulders and squeezed. His arms erased Simon's last vestiges of tearfulness. He was not alone.

"Baz, do you want to go back to our room?" They finally broke apart.

"Asking me to your room on the first date? Unbelievable," he said, but they started walking down the corridor together. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Simon nudged Baz playfully with his elbow. "Although, that doesn't sound too bad..."

They finished the walk in silence. Not a cold silence, like there often was between them, or a charged silence, like in the middle of a fist fight, between blows. But a content silence; a comfortable, amicable one.

It was, to say the least, quite awkward when they reached the doorframe. Simon wanted, so very badly, to push his roommate up against the wall and kiss him, or something, but he had no idea how, really. He knew Baz was experienced; he had seen him return to their room late at night with his hair mussed, a certain look in his eyes, and, sometimes, lipstick on his face. But Simon had had that first and only kiss with Agatha, last year, and that almost didn't count. It had been over almost as soon as it started, and it had been close-mouthed and not remotely awe-inspiring. Justlooking at Baz's lips was awesome.

"D'you reckon we should, er, kiss?" Kiss. That word felt so strange on his lips, like something forbidden, and that only reminded him how much of a child he was, and that Baz had probably done much more than kiss...

"Crowley, Snow, I thought you'd never ask." And then Baz's lips were on his. And it even better than he'd imagined. He brought his hands to Baz's face, because it felt right, and clearly it was, because Baz leaned further still into the kiss, and Simon hadn't thought it could get any better, but it did. He nudged the door closed with his foot and pressed Baz up against it. Baz started running his hands over Simon's chest, his back, and Simon did not feel like a child anymore.

Slowly, Baz pulled away. They were both out of breath.

"What was wrong this morning? Do you want to talk about it?"

Simon smiled.

"It's alright now," he said, and leaned in to continue the kiss. He had a feeling he wouldn't be feeling so alone again for a long, long time.


End file.
